


Everything You Do Is Just Alright

by TheCrimsonKing



Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: Daddy Issues, Dom/sub, Emotional Manipulation, Grooming, I'm literally the worst, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Prostitution, Unhealthy Relationships, past child sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 03:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20959862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCrimsonKing/pseuds/TheCrimsonKing
Summary: “I love you, Barry.” Fuches says quietly. “I’m the only one who does, you know that?”





	Everything You Do Is Just Alright

Why are you right when I'm so wrong  
I'm so weak but you're so strong  
Everything you do is just alright  
And I can't walk away from you  
Baby, if I tried

-Fleetwood Mac, "Oh Daddy" 

*

“How does it feel to have your daddy pimp you out?”

The bed took up most of the space in the cramped motel room. The room's only decoration is a mass-produced painting of a boy fishing on a mirror lake with endless stars spread above him. The picture hangs above a bulky television set that is playing _The Tonight Show with Jay Leno_ low in the background, the TV coloring the dark room with momentary flashes of color. The carpet was office grade, stiff, and gunmetal grey, smelling of the ghost of old cigarettes with lemon Pine-Sol vainly trying to cover it.

Barry Berkman’s back is against the lumpy mattress as he is being shoved into it, crushed under the weight of a 200-pound asshole named Mike who has Barry's knees over his broad shoulders, his hands gripping the bowl of Barry's hips hard enough to bruise, holding him still as he jackknifes fast, deep, hard, and awkwardly into him. The cheap motel lotion as lube wasn't cutting it as every drag of Mike's cock out of Barry's ass stung like fire. Barry clenched his eyes shut and tangled his fingers in the sheets between them. The warm droplets of sweat pours off Mike, sprinkling on Barry’s nose and mouth.

Mike was blandly handsome; his pale skin is a flushed rose color. The lines under his eyes crinkle like old newspapers when he smirks down at Barry with sky blue eyes painted black in the low light, so full of satisfaction, enjoying the way Barry wasn’t enjoying it.

Barry bit his bottom lip and grunts when Mike changed his angle slightly, hitting against Barry's prostate. It’s the first stab of pleasure he's felt since they started this twenty minutes ago. Mike is already close, judging by the way his breathing quickens and his whining, loud as gunshots in the almost silent hotel room.

After a few more hard thrusts of hips, Mike is filling him up with come—he must've paid Fuches's no condom fee of $100. Fuches had assured Barry that all the guys who enjoyed that privilege was tested and free of all STDs.

Mike's groans turns into high pitch wheezing as he comes down from his orgasm. His fingers clamps down even tighter on Barry’s hips, sure to leave black and blue bruises that’ll linger for days.

Mike’s wet lips are on Barry’s, kissing him as hard as he’d fucked him, the taste of the man’s beer marinated tongue flavoring Barry's mouth as he kissed back. Kissing was usually the best part, but it always ended too soon.

They broke it off, and Mike reached over to turn on the lamp, flooding the tepid motel room with yellow light, causing Barry to squint as he sits up on the bed until his back was against the headboard. It’s getting easier to ignore the raw pain in his ass. The people Fuches sends his way are never gentle or nice.

Mike’s hair is dirty blonde as he picks up his wedding ring of the same color off the nightstand and slips it on. He stands and pulls on a blue and yellow stripped shirt over his protruding beer belly. He puts on his jeans. His gaze never left Barry’s. He sits on the corner of the bed and puts on his scuffed white sneakers.

“I’ll definitely be seeing you again, kid.” Mike says as he stands. “I’ll contact your daddy—”

“Fuches isn’t my dad.” Barry says lowly as he twiddles his thumbs. He never knows what to do or say after the act. This time is no different.

“Right.” Mike says skeptically before giving Barry a two fingered salute and heading out the door as Barry slipped his sweaty sweater over his head. The door closes before muffled voices and laughter comes from beyond it. After what sounds like goodbyes, the door opens and Fuches walks in. The man has a bright smile and is wearing all black like he usually does when they do this.

“Look, Barry! A whole $600 for practically nothing!” Fuches presents the money before closing and locking the door behind himself. He counts out $200 and hands the it to Barry. “Here you go, buddy. You’ve earned it.”

Barry takes the money and goes to his jeans, pulling out his wallet before tucking the cash away.

“The rest goes in the cookie jar.” Fuches says, digging into his luggage bag and pulling out a plastic bag of money and adding the remaining $400 to it. He zips the luggage back up as Barry pulls on his boxers and pajama bottoms.

Barry sits on the side of the bed and picks at his nail beds as Fuches sits across from him at a plastic table by the window.

“Something on your mind, Barry?”

“How long are we going to keep this up for?”

“Hey buddy, you said you wanted a break from your assignments, and I heard you and I understand that, but we need the money.” Fuches says.

“Don’t we have enough money saved up from all my other jobs?”

“Sure, if you don’t count the money we spend on bills, transportation, flights, and all of your video games.” Fuches says cheerfully. That doesn’t sound right but why would Fuches lie to him? He is his oldest friend.

“But it just seems like, you know, we can hang this up now. Like you said we would someday.”

“Barry, Barry, buddy! What’s not to like about this? Aren’t you having fun? It sure sounded like you were.”

Barry had gritted his teeth the whole time Mike fucked him, he didn’t make a sound, but he didn’t feel like that was the right thing to say to Fuches. He just let out a sigh.

Fuches stands. “Okay, we should be heading home. You drive, okay?”

“I need a shower first.”

“You can shower at home.”

“Is it because this place charges by the hour or—?”

“C’mon Barry, it’s getting late.”

*

Fuches snores the hour ride to St. Paul, only awakening when they’re parked under a stark white Street lamp. They walk into the dimly lit apartment and Barry is greeted by the Metallica poster above his bed. He puts down his luggage and heads straight into the bathroom.

He turns the shower up as hot as it would go because heat is supposed to be cleansing, but could it wash the stench of Mike, Billy, and Jamal off his skin? It sure didn’t wipe away Korengal. That had started to visit him nightly again.

What he is doing was necessary, Fuches told him. Taking bad people out of the world—but the sex is different, why does he go along with it? Is he worried Fuches would be disappointed with him if he didn’t? Fuches takes care of him. Fuches loves him. Fuches only wants whats best for him.

He gets out of the shower, dries off, and puts on a t-shirt with a pair of clean boxers. He enters the bed/living room, turns on his gaming console to his favorite racing game, _Forza Horizon 4_. He’s going to play until he’s too exhausted to form thoughts.

He sits on the end of the bed and navigates the twists and turns of the simulated racing track. After about fifteen minutes of watching the highly detailed cars going round and round, the bed dips as Fuches sits close enough to him that their shoulders are touching. The man smells of mint body wash and toothpaste. His hair is damp. He must’ve got into the shower after him.

Barry is tempted to move farther away from the man, but he doesn’t, he instead stares through his video game and doesn’t flinch when Fuches gently brushes his lips against the cut of Barry's jaw. Barry takes a deep breath and tries to pretend the man isn’t there, but Fuches will not be ignored when he wanted something, so he cups under Barry's jaw and forces Barry to turn his head toward him, until they’re eye to eye. Fuches presses their lips together. Barry takes a deep breath, still watching the video game out of the corner of his eyes.

Fuches slick tongue travels across Barry's bottom lip, asking for entry. Barry's lips fall open on command and soon his mouth was invaded by the taste of jolly ranchers and bourbon.

The kissing between them is nothing new. It started when Barry was twelve and Fuches was 39. The man had proposed it under the guise of helping Barry practice for when he was going to meet girls. He wasn’t supposed to tell his parents about it, it was their secret. The groping started when Barry was fourteen when his dad died. Mom used Fuches as a surrogate father for him, so Fuches was always at Barry’s house and vice versa. They didn’t fuck until Barry was in the service. It was the night before Barry was deployed. It was tender but fast, so they ended up having sex three times—each time Fuches told him how good he was for letting him fuck him, called him a good boy. The only time Fuches told him that he was proud of him is when he was inside of Barry, so Barry oftentimes sought out sex with Fuches just to hear it again. No one had ever felt proud of him before and after Korengal, no one will ever be again.

Barry breaks the kiss and turns back to _Forza Horizon 4__._ When Fuches gets up Barry moves to lie on his stomach on the bed to see the television more clearly. He lets his mind go blank, getting absorbed in the game.

The bed sinks again as Fuches kneels behind him, cupping both sides of Barry’s hips. Barry’s stomach sinks.

“Can we do this later, Fuches? I’m kind of tired.”

“Barry, it won’t take more than a few minutes, now get on your knees.”

“Fuches…”

“Come on, Barry.”

Barry sighs and gets to his knees while still playing the video game, trying to ignore the ripping sound of Fuches’s zipper, followed by scratching sensation of his boxers being pulled down to his knees. His thighs are parted more by Fuches’s hand between his legs stroking his soft cock until Barry hitches, electricity shooting through his groin as Fuches soft, wet, hands stroke him lazily from hilt to tip. Barry clenches his eyes shut, bites his bottom lip and grips the controller.

“Fuches.” He groans out lowly.

“That’s a good boy.” Fuches says as he takes his hand away, placing them again on Barry’s hips as he lined his oily cock against Barry’s already raw, already used hole. Without warning, Fuches slowly pushes himself in until he’s hilt deep in Barry’s ass. His cock is smaller than Mike’s but at least Fuches knows how to find his prostate, he grinds inside of Barry, pressing on the sensitive bundle of nerves, making Barry come like a leaking faucet all over the clean sheets as fireworks bloom behind the curtain of his eyes. He’s so unbelievably full of cock for the second time in two hours, half realizing he didn’t come from Mike’s hard fucking.

Fuches pounds into him slowly but hard, punching gasps out of Barry with each push of hips, accompanying the sound of slapping skin in the mostly silent room. It was so good that he tears up, pressing his face into the mattress below him and catching the sheets between his teeth. Fuches leans over him and cups his cock, stroking shallowly, causing a fire to be lit under Barry’s skin.

“Fuches, Fuches, Fuches.” His voice drowns in the sheets as he says the man’s name like a mantra, every time he stuffs him.

“Oh god, Barry. You’re perfect—you’re so good for this. Look at you taking this like a fucking champ. I’m so proud of you.”

Barry swears his cock got harder just from those honeyed words alone. He is so close—just a few more thrusts in his sweet spot and...Fuches pulls out, leaving Barry cold and empty.

“I’m close.” Fuches says breathlessly. “Get on your knees, soldier.”

Barry suppresses a groan as he moves to kneel on the ground, his knees hurt on the cold hardwood floors. Fuches sits on the side of the bed and spreads his legs. Barry gets the idea and wraps his lips around Fuches’s hot, hard cock, tasting the salty come. Fuches tangled his fingers in the hair on the back of Barry’s head holding his head as he face fucks him. Barry’s gag reflex had been fucked out of him by the time he was sixteen, thanks to Fuches, so he swallows him as deep as he could go in one smooth motion, until his nose meets wispy pubic hair. Barry circles his hands around his own cock and strokes himself in time with the thrusts.

Fuches stops and guides Barry’s head back, pulling his cock out just in time to leave strings of heavy, hot come along Barry’s face as the man gasps above him. That sends Barry over the edge as he comes all over the hardwood floors and on the side of the bed.

Their labored breathing is the only sound in the room. Fuches takes Barry’s chin between his thumb and pointer finger, guiding his head up until their eyes met. The man had a sweet smile on his face that gave Barry butterflies. He finally did something right.

Fuches takes a stray pillowcase off the bed and wipes the come off Barry’s face.

“I love you, Barry.” Fuches says quietly. “I’m the only one who does, you know that?”

“I know, Fuches. I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> 


End file.
